


Lost and Found

by petit_bonbon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Because Yuuri is Dense, Fluff, M/M, Pining victor, Police Officer Yuuri Katsuki - Freeform, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petit_bonbon/pseuds/petit_bonbon
Summary: AU in which:Yuuri is a cop who works at the Hasetsu policebox, and Victor is the new skate instructor in town who almost always ends up on the steps of the aforementioned policebox to flirt with him.-“So,” Victor licks his lips, unable to help himself anymore, “Am I one of your responsibilities now?”There, he’d gone and done it. If Officer Bambi decides to freak out and run away, Victor was more than glad that he had pointed out the Ice Castle on the map so they wouldn’t be as doomed as they were hours before.But Officer Bambi only shrugs, “I help out when I can.”Okay, he was dense.Victor can definitely work with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on the other fic.  
> I should be working.  
> But I worked on this instead.

Victor Nikiforov had never been out to sea, nor had he been stranded on an island, but he reckons that it might not be that different from being lost in the middle of nowhere in – _Where was I again? Ah, right._  – Hasetsu. It wasn’t that he was hopeless with directions – he was – or that he was bad with remembering stuff – ditto – it was just that he had a bad habit of being easily distracted by things that caught his attention, because if he had just followed the map Yuuko had sent him, then he would have already arrived at the Ice Castle hours ago, and his dog wouldn’t have made the rather selfish decision to _stop moving_ because Makkachin was dead tired from the flight _and_ the train ride.

But the castle he’d spied off in the distance just looked _So great! So noble!_ and all sorts of inspiring that Victor just had to take a quick look. On the ‘rare’ chance that he might get lost, he had his smartphone on him anyway and he can just call Yuuko to help him out.

And well.

_Well._

His phone ran out of battery from Facetiming his friends in Russia to show off the castle in the background, and taking tons of selfies, on top of the games he played on the train.

Victor’s only argument is that it was a moment of weakness, because Japanese castles were _his_ weakness, temporarily replacing high-speed trains, soup vending machines and conveyor belt sushi chains from the roster. It wasn’t _his_ fault that he was helpless in the face of Eastern architecture.

Makkachin whimpers at his feet, his big brown eyes imploring Victor to stop _reveling_ in their current state of helplessness, and do _something, anything_ about it. While Victor’s go-to fantastic back-up plan in times like these were just to flag down a cab (“A waste of money!” he’d bawl) and show the driver the address – because he was as equally fantastic about butchering the pronunciation of wherever he was going – the one, great flaw to his back-up plan was that he was currently stuck in a _forest_.

A forest he had, in a stroke of brilliance, dragged Makkachin into because he was convinced that Yuuko’s map said something about forests – despite it being almost entirely in Japanese, save for the very places he was supposed to look out for on the map that were very much in _English_ – because forests were natural, and ice was natural, and the Castle flanked the forest, and so the Ice Castle had to be close by.

_Naturally._

Anyway, weren’t there supposed to be people in the forest? This forest was great; the air was cool and supposedly full of negative ions, so at least while they were lost – Victor supposes they’re lost, but they were most likely just _misplaced_ because lost largely implied that they could never be found – they were breathing in good, healthy air, and—

_Tinkle, tinkle._

"Tinkle, tinkle?" Victor mutters, looking around for the possible source of the sound when his eyes land on a-

Wait.

Was – was that a policebox?

“Makkachin, it’s a policebox!” Victor trills as he makes a mad dash for the unsuspecting police box, dog at his heels, dust bouncing off his suitcase. He had watched a fascinating documentary about them before back in his apartment in St. Petersburg on a rare day off, remembering how different each policebox looked from the other, especially when they were located in areas that exuded particular characters.

Hasetsu’s policebox looked like a charming little wooden birdhouse, and were it not for the windchimes that someone had placed on the ceiling of the tiny entrance, Victor would have missed it entirely. It blended in with its natural surroundings and looked so peaceful and quaint he wouldn’t be surprised if the officer on duty was a cuddly old grandmother who’d greet anyone who walked in with a fresh batch of cookies and hot tea, on the assumption that traditional grandmothers in the rural country baked Western cookies, of course, but that was an entirely different thing. The officer-in-charge could be a grumpy old coot and refuse to talk to tragically misplaced silver-haired Russian men and still, Victor would think he was heaven-sent.

The officer on duty, however, was neither of these things. He was a young, Japanese man, sitting neatly behind his desk, working on some paperwork. When Makkachin lets out an excited _Ruff!_ as soon as he comes in, the officer looks up, his brown eyes round and innocent, reminding Victor of his childhood.

When Victor was a twee little Russian boy, one of his favorite ways to pass the time was to watch Disney movies. Oh, he’d sing about _one day being a mighty king_ , and _painting all the colors with the wind_ , and he’d scream and laugh at all the right places, but they all paled in comparison to his fascination with a certain little deer with sparkly eyes and long, lithe legs.

“K-konnichiwa,” he stutters as he hurries to get up, his tie catching on his desk in the process, making him double up as a slash of pink smears across his cheeks, “O-oh. E-English?”

 _And his name was Bambi_ , Victor cooes in his mind.

He tries to tamp down a goofy smile that he was sure was curling around his lips, “Hello.”

“H-hi.”

“Can you speak English?” Victor asks, twirling the ends of his scarf. _Calm down, Vitya,_ he reminds himself, _let us not scare little Bambi away._ First, he needed to get to the Ice Castle, then settle in his apartment, then get on with being Hasetsu’s newest skate instructor.

 _Then_ he'd give himself permission to come back and flirt unabashedly with this little cutie.

“Y-yes,” the officer smiles bashfully, and Victor tries hard to remember the promise he's just made to himself, squelching the inner urge to ask if he came in a box because he’d love to take him home, “How may I help you?”

_You may help me by getting your things and moving into my apartment with me._

“Great, I’ve been wandering around the area for a while now, and I was wondering if you can point me in the direction of the Ice Castle?”

_And possibly, in the direction of your heart if it’s on the way?_

The officer blinks, “Can you talk slowly please? It’s been quite a while since I used my English.” He reaches down to pet Makkachin, who had been sniffing around him and furiously wagging his tail, as if in complete and total agreement with Victor’s assessment that _Yes, this is a nice human, and I will be very pleased to have him as my master as well._ As Victor repeats his question, his eyes remain fixed on the satisfied look on his poodle’s face as Officer Bambi runs his hand through his brown curls.

Makkachin’s.

In all the years that he’d been born with silver hair, never had Victor wished more than in that instant that _his_ hair was brown and curly as well.

“The Ice Castle, huh?” Officer Bambi is amused as he gently takes Victor’s map. He points to the cluster of greenery on the map, “This is where we are now, and here,” He taps the Ice Castle, not too far from their current place, “This is the Ice Castle. You just need to cross the intersection here and go straight.”

So he _was_ right.

“Yes, almost.” Officer Bambi hands him back the map, startling Victor who didn’t know that he had actually said what he was thinking out loud. Victor grips the map, his mind running, hoping he could say anything that’ll lengthen the conversation, anything—

“I could take you guys there, if you’d like.” Officer Bambi offers, already putting on his jacket. Victor remembers that it was indeed quite cold outside, but he just knew that his cheeks were kind of on fire right now, and all sorts of raging.

As to what _else_ was raging, he didn’t want to think about.

“O-oh, is that allowed?” Victor gulps as Officer Bambi zips up his navy blue coat, the zipping sound the only thing echoing around the tiny room.

 _He’s zipping it_ up _, Victor. God, get a grip._ He could practically hear one of his fellow instructors, Yuri Plisetsky, say it.

“Sure, it’s one of my responsibilities as the officer on duty,” Officer Bambi says as he fishes out a key from his pocket, and proceeds to twist the lock on the policebox.

“So,” Victor licks his lips, unable to help himself anymore, “Am _I_ one of your responsibilities now?”

There, he’d gone and done it. If Officer Bambi decides to freak out and run away, Victor was more than glad that he had pointed out the Ice Castle on the map so they wouldn’t be as doomed as they were hours before.

But Officer Bambi only shrugs, “I help out when I can.”

Okay, he was dense. Victor can definitely work with that.

The air was crisp, definitely cooler than the time Victor had sought shelter in the policebox, and the streets were silent, save for the whirr of the suitcase wheels and the sound of their boots clicking on the pavement. Victor tries his damnedest to wrack his brain to get Officer Bambi to talk more, but at the same time, he savors the comfortable silence that settles around them. Makkachin walks ahead of them, occasionally looking back as if to ask Officer Bambi whether he was headed in the correct direction, making Officer Bambi flash yet another cute, bashful smile.

“Cute dog,” he murmurs, his breath coming out in white puffs, “What’s his name?”

“Makkachin.”

“Makkachin, huh? I had a poodle too, once,” Officer Bambi’s eyes look faraway, “Vicchan.”

Victor’s heart thuds loudly in his ears. _Vicchan?_

“That was his name,” Officer Bambi clarifies, mistaking Victor’s silence for confusion, which was somehow right on the money because Victor had thought that Officer Bambi had just given him a nickname in the same way that Victor had already dubbed him Officer Bambi. “He passed away just this summer.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Victor mumbles, knowing all too well the pain of a pet leaving its master. He’d had a few poodles before, but none as surprising and as vivacious as Makkachin.

“Hmm.” Was all Officer Bambi says, and they continue walking in silence again. The colors of the sky bleed into a sweet pink, and Victor lets out a little sigh.

Officer Bambi, however, suddenly stops in his tracks, panicking as he checks his watch, “Wait, I think the Ice Castle’s now closed. Were you going in to skate?”

Oh, right.

“Ah, actually, I’m the new instructor.”

“Oh, they must have been waiting for you then. Hold on, let me just call Yuuko. …Yuuko?” Officer Bambi starts speaking in rapid fire Japanese, and for some reason, Victor feels strangely discomfited at how close they seemed. Which is obviously all sorts of great. He was barely a day in Hatsu – Hasetsu, he reminds himself – and he already has a major boner for the deer – boy – next door, who may or may not be in a relationship with the manager of the Ice Castle where he was slated to work on for the next few months. And while it’s not something new, nor something that may or may not have happened before, he had never felt this irked at this kind of situation before.

And it feels terrible. Like _no he was wrong about the Ice Castle being near the forest because ice and forest were nature and that he was actually lost and not misplaced good lord_ terrible. Flip and toss around the Victor Nikiforov philosophy terrible because he hated being wrong terrible.

“She says that she’s still at the rink,” Officer Bambi sighs in relief as he puts away his phone. Victor begrudgingly takes note of how much his expression had brightened when he was talking with _Yuuko_.

_And will Jealous Victor Nikiforov just shut it and go away already?_

“You sounded friendly over the phone. Known each other long?” Victor grits out. He blames it on the cold, but it was actually the ice that had formed crystals around his heart, which was completely and utterly ridiculous given that he had only known of Officer Bambi’s existence in a span of about twenty minutes – the fact that he was still calling him Officer Bambi could attest to their familiarity – and he was already making _fan fiction_ in his brain about their impending domestic life.

Officer Bambi snorts, however, the first non-smiley expression he’s had on his face in the twenty minutes he knows him, “We grew up together. Tiny town like this, hard not to.”

_Oh._

“So what’s she like?”

“Yuuko’s nice, don’t worry about it,” Officer Bambi’s voice dips low at the next words, the timbre sending a thrill through Victor’s bones, “It’s her children you should look out for.”

_Zzing!_

Victor laughs. He laughs hard and loud, startling Makkachin and Officer Bambi, and for what reason exactly, he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe he laughs because of the incredible situation he’d landed himself and Makkachin in, thousands of miles away in a tiny town in Japan. Maybe it’s because of the timing that they arrive at Ice Castle and Yuuko and her triplets met them just in time before they decided to call it a day.

“It’s Yuuri!” The girls cheer as soon as they spot Officer Bambi, making Victor’s ears perk up. Was he correct in assuming, this time, that Officer Bambi’s name was Yuuri? It was kind of shocking to hear that such a nice, gentle man shared a name with a particularly rough and crude colleague back at St. Petersburg.

_Yuuri. Officer Yuuri. Officer Bambi._

Not bad.

“Hi, I’m Victor Nikiforov,” Victor says, loudly enough for Yuuko and her litter of children to hear, but especially loud enough for a certain police officer who works at a charming policebox on the edge of a forest to hear.

“Yuuko Nishigori,” Yuuko takes Victor’s outstretched hand and pumps it excitedly, “These are my girls, Axel, Lutz, and Loop.” The girls cheekily wave at Victor, laughing all the while as Makkachin sniffs them and gives Axel a lick on the cheek.

“I’ll give you a quick look around inside. Girls, come help me switch the lights on again. ” Yuuko and the girls file in the Ice Castle after the exchange, Makkachin tailing closely behind them, tempted by the tantalizing promise of warmth.

Victor rocks on his heels, tongue in his cheek, not knowing _how_ to say what he _wanted_ to say, which were ranging from the grateful _Thank you for saving me and Makkachin from being bear food,_ to the very polite and very bland _Thank you for helping us,_ and to the flirty _Thank you for walking me back, but you could have kept me._

He does not count on Officer Bambi – _Yuuri_ , he corrects himself – to break the ice, so to speak, “Looks like my duties are over.”

“Yeah.”

_…YEAH?! What happened to all those lines he had lined up in his head? What did he mean by yeah? Yeahs were for strangers, friends; people he didn't want to see nak-  
_

“Hope you have a great stay here,” He touches his cap and turns to go, but faster than Victor can comprehend what the actual h-e-double hockey sticks he was doing, he had fingers clamped around the smooth material of Yuuri’s – Ahhh!!! He used his name! _In his head_ , but still – jacket.

Bambi’s eyes are big and brown and Victor would gladly, willingly crawl into them and never look back, except maybe to take his dog with him.

“Um.”

“…Yes?”

“I heard earlier. Y-Your name is Yuuri?” Victor whispers.

It was Yuuri’s turn to stutter, “Y-yes?”

“I like… your name.”

_I like you._

“My name is Yuuri Katsuki.”

_I like your name so much I want it to be my new last name._

Victor gulps at all these words that dance around his head, “I’m Victor Nikiforov.”

“I-I heard.”

He heard!

“C-can I see you again? Sometime?” Victor asks, heart in his throat, “Maybe in your policebox?”

“…Koban.”

Victor blinks, the spell broken. Was Yuuri already refusing him, and had forgotten that Victor was not Japanese, nor could understand the language? Was this polite speak for _never talk to me again good riddance?_

“It’s the Japanese word for policebox. _Koban_.”

_Ohh._

“ _Koban_ ,” Victor tests it out, the word surprisingly not mangled into undecipherable garbage on his tongue.

“You seriously don’t know any Japanese?” Yuuri shyly asks. What there was to be shy about, Victor wasn’t sure but he definitely wanted to know.

“No.”

“I’ll teach you another one. _Konbanwa_.” Yuuri says, pronouncing the words slowly and Victor takes the opportunity to stare all he wants at Yuuri’s lips (“For my education!” He insists), which once again reddens Yuuri’s cheeks.

“ _Konbanwa_.” Victor repeats, once again surprised at how easy the words are to him, before asking, “What does it mean?”

“It means good night.” Yuuri touches the brim of his cap again, “ _Konbanwa_ , Victor.”

“ _Konbanwa_ , Yuuri. See you again in your _koban_.”

“Victor, we’re ready for you,” Lutz pokes her head out just as Victor watches Yuuri fade into the night, and inquires, “What were you staring at?”

Victor Nikiforov thinks that despite the fact that he’d never having been at sea, nor had he ever been stranded on an island, he claims himself an idiot for earlier likening it to getting lost in the middle of nowhere, in a forest, of all places.

This was _lost_.

And by God, he never wanted to be found.

He savors the floaty feeling, the gentle rocking motion of his heart as it thuds in his chest, and breathes, “The sea. I was staring at the sea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victor has a newfound appreciation for timing

When Victor was a young boy, his mother had always told him to wait. “Wait until the 25th to open your birthday and Christmas presents, Vitya,” She’d always say, and no matter how much Victor begged, pleaded to be allowed to open “Just one toy, pleeeease!” not once had she ever given in to him. Not when fat tears ran down his cheek and his pouty lips quivered uncontrollably, not when Victor clung to her legs like a tiny, blonde marsupial, and not even when he had made a public spectacle of himself by lying on the pavement of their apartment building, wailing loudly about the _unfairness of it all_.

But over time, he had learned to deal with his impatience. When he was being held up on the phone by the telephone pizza operator when all he wanted was a piping hot Supreme and he was too lazy to go outside, he started singing along with the zany tune the pizza chain had commissioned. When he was stuck in unexpected traffic, instead of minutes, Victor counted the number of people he was stuck with, categorized them according to his whims (“Hair color and in order of the color’s names in the English alphabet!”) and made up back stories to go with it (“She dyed her hair orange because her grandfather had an orange farm and she misses the days when she grew up with him and their horses.”)

All this was brought about because Victor had learned that there was such a thing called timing, and timing somehow made everything better. His pizza had arrived just in time when a friend had decided to drop by so at least he had someone to share the calories he’d already been feeling guilty about; the traffic actually helped a bit because it was pouring outside, and by the time he arrived at his stop, the rain had been reduced to a light drizzle.

So, if Victor had learned to temper his impatience and to believe in the right timing, to be satisfied with calling out the name of a certain Japanese cop from the privacy of his bedroom with his eyes closed shut and a hand curled around his hardness, what on earth was he doing, sitting on a step of a wooden _koban_ on the edge of a forest in Hasetsu after just two days of not seeing him?

“Makkachin, I can’t find him on Facebook or Twitter” he had huffed earlier on the couch he was draped on back at the apartment, his fingers furiously scrolling the screen of his phone, “He’s not on Instagram either.” At the time, he had had the rather ingenious idea at the time to type Yuuri’s name using the Japanese keyboard, and he had actually rubbed his hands in glee in anticipation of stalking Officer Yuuri. What he hadn’t counted on, as per usual, was the fact that there are apparently a lot of variations for Yuuri Katsuki, and that Victor did not know which one was right because _he did not know how to spell Yuuri’s –_ Yuri’s? Yuuuuri’s? Iuri’s?— _name._

Disturbed by the unearthly sounds the dog itself couldn’t believe was coming from his master, Makkachin gets up and pads to Victor’s bedroom, where he could presumably rest in peace, and most importantly, _alone_.

Victor thinks of other possible variations for Yuuri’s name – _Iuuree Kachkee?_ – as he swings his legs off the couch and propels himself into the kitchen to get a refreshing drink, when he remembers that there is no drink to refresh him with because he hasn’t gone to the supermarket yet. Grumbling in incoherent Russian, Victor pulled up Google Maps on his phone and types in “supermarket”, only to come up with _absolutely nothing_.

Panicking, he calls Yuuko, “There is no grocery.”

“Moshi—Oh, Victor, hi. What?”

“Do you have a supermarket here, or do you have everything delivered by drones?”

“What’re you talking about? Can you speak slowly so that I can catch up?”

“Supermarket,” He squeaks. First he can’t find Yuuri Katsuki – _Youri Kachee?_ – now even Google Maps was giving up on him.

“Oh, a supermarket! I know I stocked your fridge with a few days’ worth of food and left a map on your table. Didn’t you find it?”

The food, he found. He’d gobbled it all up immediately. The map, he didn’t, because after that incident with Yuuri, he was all he thought – and Googled – about, and the table wasn’t even unpacked yet. Warily, Victor walks over the box marked TABLE and does see a printout detailing the walk to the nearest supermarket. All he knows is how to get to the Ice Castle, to his apartment, and of course, the police box. Now, he can add the supermarket to his limited lineup.

“Yuuko Nizaki, if that is even your name and how you say it, you are a lifesaver.” He breathes, as he ends the call, quickly putting on his coat and stuffing his feet into the nearest pair of shoes he could find. He whistles for Makkachin and the two dash off out of the apartment and into the cool, Thursday morning.

Which brings us to how he’d ended up on the steps of the police box, because while Yuuko’s map had been very detailed, she had not taken into account at how easy Victor got himself misplaced…

…nor had she anticipated that he was eager to surrender the futility of his mission and had decided to give in and let the nice Japanese policeman, whom Victor was under the care of because he now resided in Hasetsu and was ergo, his _responsibility_ , lead the way to the supermarket.

It was almost genius.

Almost.

He hadn’t counted Officer Yuuri to not be at the police box.

Sitting on the steps of the police box, Victor remembers Christmas, remembers his birthday, remembers his beautiful mother and the lessons she taught him, and decides that his current state of being cold and hungry was all because he was impatient.

Makkachin, who had earlier been preoccupied with the strange leaves of a foreign country, now sits at his feet, softly whines.

Victor laughs at his impudence, at his frivolity of sitting out in the cold for an hour, waiting for someone and waiting for help when Victor had a _map_ in his hands. His mother would laugh at him if she knew at how pathetic he was being.

Decided, Victor brushes his coat as he stands to go, when his eyes catch on a figure walking a bicycle.

Yuuri.

Makkachin barks, his tail wagging because _here is the human I know my human is pining for_ , or something like that.

Victor smiles inwardly, almost proud.

 “Victor?”

_Timing._

_Of course._

Renewed, Victor crows, “Yuuri!” and waves a gloved hand in the air, “I'm misplaced!”

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re hopeless with maps, huh?” Yuuri says wryly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He had stashed his bicycle into the _koban_ before setting out again to help Victor with his supermarket. Victor only hums in response, a spring in his step as Makkachin weaves in and out of his legs playfully.

_I’m hopeless with Japanese cops too, apparently._

Never in Victor’s twenty-seven years had he waited almost two hours in the cold for anyone, just as he’s never been this twitterpated over someone whose name he can’t even _spell_.

“I didn’t know you went on patrols too.”

“I prefer patrolling,” Yuuri says as they round a corner, “I learn something new about Hasetsu every day when I do.”

“Like?”

“Like…” Yuuri thinks, and Victor thinks that his thinking face was a very becoming expression on him. Okay, maybe Yuuri could twitch in the most horrible manner and he’d still think that it was the cutest. “I discovered a shortcut from Ruroku to Nonkai.”

The names of the streets meant nothing to Victor, but they clearly mean something to Yuuri, so he tries to find them on the map, “Are those far apart? I can’t find them on the map.”

Yuuri leans over, his fresh scent delighting Victor, and points out the two streets, unaware of the loud thudding of the Russian’s heart, “There.”

“But aren’t you required to memorize the map or something, because you have to help misplaced people like me?”

Yuuri laughs, “You really have something against the word ‘lost’, don’t you?”

“‘Lost’ means never being found, so I can’t be lost.”

“Nice philosophy.”

Keeping up the leisurely pace, they talk about Mrs. Takanabe, whom Victor doesn’t know but insists must be a lovely woman, and how she was talking to Yuuri about how excited she was that her son was coming home from Canada. They talk about Russia, “I’ve never been anywhere,” Yuuri confesses, to which Victor sneakily says, “Let me know when you’re going and I’ll show you around.” They even talk about the cat Yuuri regularly has to look for because it keeps running away from its owner, the grumpy Mr. Wakaru, who is coincidentally the supermarket owner. “Maybe because he feeds it dried squid,” Yuuri muses out loud, which makes Victor laugh because he’s never heard of anyone – well, it wasn’t done in St. Petersburg, anyway – feed their cat dried squid and parsnips, but “I’ll check with my friend who’s also named Yuri, because he loves cats and his house is bursting with them.”

The conversation is never-ending and it feels so natural talking with Yuuri, that when they stop at a supermarket that makes Victor inwardly ask what where the super aspect about it was, Victor almost wants to walk back with him to the koban, his stomach and all logic be damned.

Yuuri, nods at the supermarket, “We’re here.”

“I see that.”

“So,” Yuuri says, “I should get going. Paperwork.”

“Does it ever run out?”

“Even when nothing’s written on it?” Yuuri snorts, and Victor notes that even the sound of it is so melodious that he could listen to it forever, “No.”

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor is loathe to part, but Yuuri was right. His duty was over, and he had to go back to the _koban_.

Victor turns to go, not trusting himself to let the disappointment show on his face when Yuuri speaks up, “You know, you can go on patrol with me, if you’d like.”

Victor whirls around, his heart floating back into his throat.

“I-I mean,” Yuuri scratches his neck, a flush of red slowly working its way across his cheek, “Since you don’t know the area well. It might help, and you might not get so, um, misplaced.”

“I—I’d love that,”

_I love you._

“Great.” Yuuri smiles, tipping his cap at Victor as he walks off.

“Great,” Victor leans down to stuff his face with Makkachin’s fur before anyone can see the full face blush he was sure he was sporting, “Really, _really_ great.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around to read Chapter Two, yay!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos, the bookmarks (HELLO, I HAVE UPDATED AS YOU CAN SEE!) and the comments as well. If you have any reaction to this chapter, I'd love to hear it and if you spot any typos and stuff, let me know! I'm great at over-analyzing stuff, so I usually shut my brain down and let my fingers do all the work for me, woot!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victor is caught up in something nasty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly not how this chapter was supposed to go.  
> But Victor happened and so here we are.

In Victor’s mind’s eye, he was already at the police box early in the morning in anticipation of the patrol Officer Yuuri’s promised to take him on to better acquaint him with the neighborhood. His cheeks would be wonderfully glowing and his eyes would get dreamy, and he would look every bit like a man in love, and since he was fantasizing, he envisions Yuuri’s cheeks equally flush, and his doe eyes heated and sultry. They’d slowly start walking away from the police box, Makkachin following closely behind, and in between the tour, they’d talk about anything (“Did you know that a shrimp’s heart is in the head?” Victor would quip, and Yuuri would probably say, “So when it falls in love, does it fall in love with its heart or its brain?”) and everything (“No, I haven’t had borscht,” Yuuri would say, and Victor would volunteer to make some for him) and absolutely nothing (a shy smile on Yuuri’s face, a knowing grin on his when their eyes meet), and it would be lovely, and it will be the catalyst of their romance. When people’d ask how they got together, he imagines Yuuri looking at him, a twinkle in his eye, and saying, “I guess it’s because I’m a shrimp.” Victor would laugh and pinch Yuuri’s cheek for the private joke, and when they’d gotten home, he’d drag him to the sofa to smother him with hot, sweet kisses.

But dreams were dreams for a reason, and fantasies mostly remained illusions, because the morning after Yuuri had dropped Victor and Makkachin off at the supermarket to shop, Victor had gone to bed with a goofy smile on his face and a flutter in his heart, only to be jolted awake all throughout the night by an unnatural pain in his stomach, and a toilet that constantly beckoned his name.

Victor Nikiforov had the runs.

“I’m sorry, Yuuko, I don’t think I can make it today,” Victor wheezes as he cradles his stomach, “My stomach’s all weird.”

“You sound terrible, Victor,” Yuuko says, “What did you have last night?”

Yuuri flashes in his mind, making him snort.

_I wish._

“I went to the supermarket last night, and I didn’t really understand what some of the things there were. They looked delicious though.” He groans at the last part, because despite the food looking delicious, they were far, far from it, and he’d only powered through them because he hated wasting food, even if it tasted weird and smelled funky.

In hindsight, he should really have stuck to the food he could actually identify. But he’d just made a ‘date’ with Yuuri, and his heart did this crazy thing of wanting to spill out of his mouth while simultaneously jumping down into his intestines, and Victor had hardly registered whatever it was that he was throwing down in his basket. Heck, he hadn’t even realized how he’d managed to make it home without dancing around the lamp posts and bursting into song.

“Get some rest, you poor thing,” Yuuko tuts, and in the background he can hear the disappointment of the triplets when they hear about Victor’s absence. She assures him that it’s fine and that he should just take it easy, and attempts to hang up when Victor speaks up.

“Um,”

“Yes, Victor?”

“I—I was wondering, if you have his number,” Victor mumbles, his eyes squeezed shut as he imagines Yuuri’s face. Sure, they hadn’t made plans that they’d be meeting the day after, and maybe it was all in Victor’s head that Yuuri looked a little curious about him, but maybe calling Yuuri was the only polite thing to do, just in case he inadvertently stood him up… or something.

As if competing with Victor’s increasingly jumbled thoughts, his stomach rumbles violently, and Victor is robbed of almost all coherent thought but the urge to run back to his porcelain throne.

“Huh? What’re you talking about? Whose number?”

“I’m sorry, I—I gotta go.”

Victor runs.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor dreams of being in a white room, surrounded by silver fish. He is wearing white clothes, and he could almost disappear into the wall, but he chooses to walk around the empty bedroom, admiring the cool-creepy fish who swims around the air, unperturbed about the lack of water and the violations against the laws of physics. For a while, he sits on the bed and watches them move hypnotically, a school of silvery-white creatures suspended above his head, when his attention is suddenly latched on to a singular black goldfish.

The whites of its eyes were the only other color on the eerily black fish, and Victor watches in rapture as the fish starts suddenly swimming downward until it hovers above his face and makes a move to drop itself straight in his—

 

* * *

 

 

Victor falls off the sofa, a tangled chaos of legs, blanket, pillows, and Makkachin. He has no semblance of time, but the room was enshrouded in darkness. He doesn’t remember how he’s nodded off to sleep, but rubbing his ass from the sudden fall, recalls his frequent bathroom breaks. Makkachin is licking his hand, gently reminding him of dinner time, when he hears the doorbell.

Ding!

“Must either be Yuuko or the landlord,” Victor says as he switches on the lights and pads to his foyer. While he’s made some progress on moving in, he wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that he still had some cardboard boxes in the room, and he hopes that whoever was at the door would turn a blind eye to them.

Ding!

“Coming,” He says, turning the latch on the door to find himself face to face with—

“Yuuri,” Victor gasps, and his hands don’t know which to fly to first. Does he try to tamp down his bedhead? Can he change into a different shirt in a blink of an eye? Drat, his clothes were all the way over there, okay, can he suddenly take off his shirt without it being weird, even if he wouldn’t mind if things went—No no no, stop, stop.

Yuuri was _here_.

On his foyer.

“Are you real right now?” Victor can’t help but ask, and he so badly wants to reach out and touch him, but _what if his stomach was screwing with his brain right now?_

Then he wouldn’t just be in toilet agony; he’d be in a more intense torment because Yuuri Katsuki would no longer be restricted to police boxes and supermarkets and the streets of Hasetsu, because now Victor would be thinking of Yuuri Katsuki being in his _home_ , where he _lived_.

And there would be no greater pain than thinking about a Yuuri who wasn’t there.

But whether he was make-believe or real, fish or boy, Victor would still gladly take him.

“H-Hi, Victor,” Yuuri does a quick bow, his eyes on the floor refusing to meet his, “I, uh, hope you don’t mind me intruding.”

Victor thinks that this is rather late notice for someone who’s been all he’s thinking of ever since he found himself on a police box in a forest. He licks his lips, “I don’t mind.”

_I don’t mind you running around my mind at all._

“Yuuko called, and um, she said you were sick?” He holds up a bag of something, and Victor steps away from the foyer, thinking of how very realistic _this_ dream was, “Come in, please.”

_Leave your shoes at the door forever._

Yuuri, as if he cannot be any more perfect, does not comment on Victor’s living situation, and instead takes out the things he’s bought from the bag, “I got you some medicine and some food. You should be fine in no time if you start having these.” He passes Victor a capsule, which the Russian takes.

“My, not a minute in and you’re already trying to drug me,” Victor drawls as he knocks back the medicine without bothering to get some water.

“O-oh, um, water—” Yuuri scrambles to get up to get him a glass when Victor’s hand encircles his wrist, “No, stay.” He cooes, and starts to plant his legs on either side of Yuuri’s hips and straddle him, having decided that yes, he likes this dream so much better than the previous one.

In fact, Vitya likey very, very much.

“D-dream? V-Victor, wha—” Yuuri panics as Victor starts softly moaning into the space between his ear and his shoulder, when the cop decides to bring a hand to Victor’s forehead, “V-Victor, you’re burning up!”

Victor doesn’t respond, not when Yuuri hauls him to his bed, tipping them both over, sending the younger man fleeing from his room with a torrential blush. He does not see the look on Yuuri's face as he shakily unbuttons the top buttons on his shirt when he comes back with a wet towel, and not when Yuuri mops the sweat from his eyebrow.

 

* * *

 

Victor wakes up with the sun in his eyes, an odd twinge in his muscles. Last night’s dream about Yuuri had been fairly specific, and while normally he’d jest about how it was fodder for his late night ahem, _activities_ , for some reason, it didn’t feel right.

“Hmm,” was all Victor says as he walks into the living room, dog on his heels, stretching as he went. Everything in the room looked the same as always – the half-assembled bookshelf, the boxes of clothes that he had yet to sort, his ice skates neatly lined on the floor next to his bag.

At least his stomach bug was gone, he thinks as he opens the fridge, when his eyes alight on something that he was a hundred percent sure wasn’t there before:

Eat. – Yuuri

While a part of Victor would love nothing more than to _eat Yuuri_ , he does not know how he had managed to conjure a bowl of porridge and put a note on it, not unless...

Yuuri Katsuki made him porridge.

Yuuri Katsuki was not a dream his brain had conjured out of consolation for his poor, tortured rectum.

Yuuri Katsuki was _real_ and Victor can vaguely start to recall—

Reaching out for him

Touching him

 _Straddling_ him.

Sliding to the floor with an uncharacteristic _thunk!_ (because Victor never _thunk!_ ed anywhere, thank you) Victor comes to the sudden realization that his stomach bug may be over and done with, but it still did not deter from the fact that he was in a massive pile of shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing chapters for this fic is actually quite funny. 
> 
> I try to stick to a chapter goal of sorts, but this fic's Victor always, always crashes my plots and does what he wants with it anyway and just shoots me finger guns, reminiscent of the other fic's Phichit.
> 
> ANYWAY, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! If you like/love/hate/whatever, let me know by leaving a comment below~ I like talking with you guys. :> It makes me feel fluffy inside~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Victor lands himself in yet another situation

“This is Yuri Plisetsky. I’m not at home at the moment so leave your message after the beep… Unless your name is Victor Nikiforov, in which case, _don’t_. I mean it, Victor. _BEEP_.”

“You have six new messages. First message:

“Yuri, hi! Again! You updated your mailbox thingy, huh? I don’t think the last part was there last night. It’s actually pretty hilarious, but I know you don’t mean it. Anyway, I left you a bunch of voicemails last night. Did you get them? No? Yeah, you probably didn’t. I mean, I don’t remember myself how many I’ve left so you probably got a bit confused, so here’s the thing…”

“Next message:

“Wow, you’re still not at home? How are Mila and Yakov, by the way? I forgot to ask you about them. I saw Georgi’s Facebook post. Sucks about Anya, but... I can relate. You see, I forgot to tell you that Yuuri—anyway. I’m so embarrassed. Super embarrassed. HOW DO I EVEN _LOOK_ AT HIM? _Help me, Yuratchka!_ ”

“Next message:

“Yuri! Did you get the picture of the cat I sent you? Yuuri says that the owner feeds it dried squid! And parsnips! Are cats even allowed to have that?! Yuuri said that he sometimes feeds the cat, but the owner of the supermarket almost caught him one time, so he—

“Next message:

“Yuri, you still haven’t called me back. I’m beginning to think you actually mean your voicemail thing. Call me!”

“Next message:

“ _HEY I ALREADY KNOW YOU AND THIS IS CRAAAAZY, BUT HERE’S MY NUMBER, CALL ME, YURI!_ ”

“Next message:

_“IN ANOTHER LIIIIIIFE, I WOULD MAKE YOU STAAAAAAY, SO I DON’T HAVE TO SAY YOU WERE THE ONE THAT GOT AWAYYYYYY, OOH-WOAH-WOAH-WOAH-WO—”_

“Confirm delete.

“You have zero messages.”

 

* * *

 

It had been five excruciating days since the Yuuri Lapdance Incident, and Victor had not seen nor heard from the man himself. On one hand, he thinks, as he crosses the street, the grip of Makkachin’s leash dangling loosely around his wrist as they go, Yuuri might not be pressing charges against him for sexually assaulting him. On the other, the paperwork to charge him with that might be moving at an incredibly slow and languorous pace, which Victor couldn’t be too sure about since he’d been living in Hasetsu – See? He was getting the hang of it after all! – for about two weeks now. And for the past five days, he’d been all about the ice castle, the apartment, the grocery, and his latest discovery, the park, since he might or not be persona non grata at the koban, much less the forest.

Inasmuch as St. Petersburg Victor would have liked this drama, Hasetsu Victor would love nothing but to do without it. Sometimes, yes, Victor missed St. Petersburg, missed the blistering cold weather. He missed Georgi and his tales of woe mostly revolving around his unrequited love, Mila whose music and movie recommendations were almost always spot-on, the Russian Yuri whose temper was always getting the best of, and surprisingly, even his boss, Yakov, who was a man of few words. He missed his family, his friends, and sometimes it got so bad that he did think of packing up and running back to Russia where everything familiar was at hand—a place where he would no longer need to pull out a dictionary to ask the supermarket what this meat was, and he could eavesdrop on teenagers who were talking about the latest celebrity scandals, and he could walk around places so familiar his shoes would know every bump and step of the road without him having to look up from his phone.

But the thing about living away from a place he’s known for long, is that he gets the chance to discover a different Victor. Hasetsu Victor.

And although he was a bit scared, a little bit hesitant, some part of Victor was telling him that there was more to this tiny town that he’d thought.

And he couldn’t wait to be right.

Makkachin is raring to go, eager to run around the park. He looks at Victor as if to ask _May I? Please?_ and Victor just smiles and unclips the leash from his collar, letting his poodle run loose. Some nearby children shriek in laughter as Makkachin takes long sniffs before deciding to take _A quick taste!_ and licks them. The mothers who are watching wave at Victor, and Victor waves back as he settles on a nearby bench. A few days ago, the people here were a bit wary of the silver-haired stranger and his fluffy brown dog, but they were slowly warming up to him, which made Victor feel a bit better.

_Ring!_

Victor pulls out his phone to find a text from Yuuko.

 

Yuuko

Just realized that I haven’t thrown you a welcome party yet. You free tomorrow night?

 

Victor

That’s nice of you, but you don’t have to! :) Besides, I have to feed Makkachin.

 

Yuuko

Bring him. I insist. Takeshi insists. The girls insist.

 

(Victor laughs at this, because Yuuri is right; the girls are a force to be reckoned with.)

 

Victor

If you’re really sure, I’m free.

 

Yuuko

Great! 7PM at Katsuki Yu-topia then!

 

Victor

I’ll be there!

 

_Wherever that was._

As if sensing Victor’s dilemma, his phone lights up again.

 

Yuuko

We’ll go together after work.

 

Victor

Okay :)

 

He pockets his phone and stands up, thinking that the Nishigori family sure were a nice bunch. Two fingers in his mouth, he whistles and Makkachin runs over, excited as Victor throws a ball in the other direction.

“Fetch!”

 

* * *

 

Looking back, Victor should have really known better.

He picked up some Japanese from the triplets, but he should have known that Katsuki was not a word you just throw around and use whenever you felt like using it.

Of course it was a last name.

Of course it was Officer Yuuri’s last name.

“Wait, what do you mean _Yuuri’s family owns the place we’re going to_?” Victor is trying hard to tamp down the panic that’s rising at the back of his throat and threatening to spill down on one of his nicer shirts.

Yuuko doesn’t get why he’s freaking out, naturally, and looks at him all squinty-eyed, “Hmm, am I saying it wrong? Officer Yuuri, you know? You’ve met him?”

 _Of course I’ve met the cute officer stationed at the koban,_ Victor’s mind screams, _I’ve also given him a little lapdance when I was having a diarrhea-induced fever.  
_

“Yes,” is Victor’s very polite answer as he ducks his head to take a seat in the car, “You sent him to give me medicine. Have I thanked you for that?”

_For ruining my chances with him?_

“Yes,” Yuuko laughs, “Many times already. Don’t worry so much, Victor!”

Then a lightbulb goes off in his Victor’s head. Yuuri was a grown man, and of course, he had to have his own place, right?”

“Yuuri doesn’t live with his family, does he?” Victor asks as the triplets file in the car, one after the other, an exhilarated mess after the ice skating tutorial he gave them. Makkachin hops in after them, having taken a liking to the children who loved to pet and play with him.

“Don’t be silly, Victor,” Yuuko pulls out her phone and messes with it, making Victor sigh with relief, until she adds, “Of course he does.”

“Wonderful,” He grits out.

_I’ve always wanted to get arrested on the dinner table. Always thought it'd make for good entertainment.  
_

“Yes, yes,” She says distractedly, “They serve good food. The katsudon’s their specialty.”

Takeshi, Yuuko’s husband, is the last to get in the car. He adjusts the overhead mirror and grins at Victor’s worried face reflected in the mirror, “Hey, Victor, we’re feasting tonight. Hope you're excited!”

Victor imagines himself on the dinner table, ready for carving for the sin he’s done against Hasetsu’s unofficial hero to wayward tourists, Officer Yuuri.

He tries to give the man a smile, but it only comes out looking troubled, “Looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

 

Katsuki Yutopia was a fifteen minute ride from the Ice Castle. The drive was pleasant and easy, and the family sometimes slowed down to point out the few landmarks Hasetsu had, and Victor feels a bit bad for not enjoying it as much as he knew he would be if he wasn’t feeling so damned awkward. He’s taking his time to get out of the car, so Makkachin bites on the hem of his pants to make him _Move! Faster!_

A plump woman welcomes them inside as Yuuko ushers them in. “Yuuko!” was all Victor could understand, as he watches her coo over the family as if they were her own, and Victor could only swallow loudly as he realizes that this was Yuuri’s mother. 

_And she would be very entitled to cut up the jerk who dared to defile her precious son._

Yuuko pushes Victor forward – because unbeknownst to him, his feet were inching closer to the door – and introduces him to Mrs. Katsuki, “This is Victor Nikiforov-sensei. He’s the guest of honor tonight!”

“H-hello, it’s nice to meet you!” Victor manages to croak out, one hand extending towards her for a handshake, the other curled up deep in his pockets in a vise-like death grip.

The older woman smiles and shakes his hand, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

_Oh dear God._

“Good things, I hope? Hahahaha.” Oh god, could his laughter sound any more mechanical?

“Yes, from Yuuri.”

The mention of his name sends his panic into overdrive.

“Speaking of, where is Yuuri?” Yuuko asks as Mrs. Katsuki leads them over to their table, “Is he back yet?”

_Dear God please no. I’ll be good, I’ll be kind, I’ll not say mean things about anything else, I swear—_

“He just got home. I think he’s changing his clothes,” Mrs. Katsuki says before turning her back and shouting, “YUURI!”

There’s a sound — “HAIIIIIII!” — and he emerges. And while he would most unlikely be a vision to others in his plain blue shirt and track pants, but to Victor, he is all that he can see. Because here was actually Yuuri Katsuki, sans the uniform, sans the police officer job. Here, he was just Yuuri Katsuki, and Victor hasn’t seen him in a long time outside of his lust-induced dreams.

“Yuuri,” Victor softly says.

“Oh.” Yuuri, who had been stuffing his feet inside his slippers, looks up and stops dead in his tracks, “Victor.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wow, we're already at Chapter Four!
> 
> Truth be told, I used to be quite terrible with updating fics of any kind, and if I finished one, it would warrant all kinds of Hooray! and Finally! but I'm having so much with this one, and I hope that you, dear reader, are having as much fun as I do.
> 
> To the people who've left kudos, comments, and subscribed to this work - thank you. Seeing another email from AO3 sends zippy little heartwaves to my heart, and I hope new/old readers could leave feedback as well. :3
> 
> See you in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victor's situation reaches an all-new level of wtf

Victor feels like his stomach is filled with birds, hundreds of flapping wings beating against his stomach, that when he opens his mouth, he imagines all of them scrambling towards the light, each of them taking flight with parts of his innards stuffed inside their little sharp beaks. On one hand, it had probably been a bad move to watch Birds last night, and on the other, it was probably worse that he thought he could handle this, seeing Yuuri in the flesh.

Yuuri looks freshly showered. His warm-looking shirt clings to his shoulders and his hair is damp and slightly curled around his face, making him look much, much younger than the man he’d met at the koban in the forest.

Clearly, he hadn’t expected on seeing Victor at the family restaurant-slash-inn, either.

“You’re looking tons better than the last time I saw you.” Yuuri says as he extends a hand for Victor to shake. “That’s great.”

The birds in Victor’s stomach quiet down as he gives Yuuri’s hand a solid pump. “Yeah. _Great_. You look well, too.” He doesn’t know why he says the last part since Yuuri wasn’t even sick.

Yuuri laughs as he grabs some menus off the counter, “Welcome to your welcome party, by the way. Is it weird that I said that?”

_Not as weird as you’re acting right now._

Victor gives him a small smile as they sidestep a few patrons on their way out. If he was being honest, this wasn’t how he expected things to go. He’d expected a blush or two, maybe Yuuri not meeting his eyes, and a higher likelihood of Yuuri bolting away from Victor every chance he could get.

He hadn’t expected Yuuri to not look so casual about the whole lap dance thing, not when he was on the verge of panic and had even called his friend Chris from all the way in Switzerland for advice.

“Listen, Victor, my little Russian potato, it was just a _dance_. People _dance_ all the time. It is perfectly acceptable to _dance_. You dance when you’re happy, you dance when you’re sad. I don’t know why you’re so hung up about dancing when you were sick.” Chris scoffed into the phone.

“I danced on his _lap_.”

“Pshh, _so_? People dance on everything – floors, tables, bar counters, poles! It’s _dancing_ , not fuc—You know what? Just _apologize_ , Niki-dork-ov. How hard can it be?”

And while Victor thinks that he could let the issue drop, let sleeping dogs lie and everything, it would be cowardly of him to think that just because Yuuri didn’t dwell on what had happened meant that Monday night was fine and dandy.

It wasn’t in him to turn a blind eye when something was wrong, especially when Hasetsu seemed to be more than willing to fold him into their warm embrace.

Mind having made up, Victor takes a seat and makes a promise to himself to catch Yuuri when he was alone and apologize, come hell or high water.

 

* * *

 

While Victor had made resolute plans to apologize to Yuuri sometime after dinner, he doesn’t count in the possibility of Yuuko inviting Yuuri to join them in the festivities, nor did he expect Yuuko a force to be reckoned with especially when she has had some drinks in her. After much needling, she finally breaks Yuuri down and all but shoves him onto the vacant seat next to Victor.

She pours Victor a cup, “Drink.”

“I shouldn’t—”

She fixes him a glare.

“Right. Of course.” Victor is pleasantly surprised at how easily it goes down his throat.

She pours Yuuri a cup as well, “You drink too.”

“I don’t think—Yeah, there’s no arguing with you right now.” Yuuri takes the cup and downs it in one go, making Yuuko erupt into cheers.

“I think you should slow it down, Yuuko,” Takeshi murmurs as he slowly creeps across the table, aiming for the bottles lined up when Yuuko pouts and gathers them against her chest.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Takeshi. The night’s just begun.”

 

* * *

 

Victor wakes up in an unfamiliar room. His head is throbbing, and every time he tries to pry open his eyes, they are assaulted by blinding white light, so he instead chooses to cower into a fetal position on the cold, hard floor when the faint sound of groaning echoes next to him, tickling his ear.

Since when did Makkachin make those sounds?

Sleepily, he reaches a hand out for soft, warm fur but comes in contact with soft, warm flesh.

_That can’t be right._

A bit confused but still reluctant to open his eyes, he pats the flesh for a fair bit of time when his hands close in on something he is definitely sure Makkachin, as a boy, does not have.

He pinches it, drawing a startled yelp from whoever or whatever it was next to him.

“You—you—”

Oh God. He knew that voice.

Victor opens his eyes, one at a time, and instantly wishes he hadn’t.

“That—that was my—”

Slightly panicking, Victor lets out a shaky yawn and turns on his side, clenching his eyes shut as he does. There was absolutely no way he was in Yuuri’s room.

On the count of three, he opens his eyes again and finds himself still in Yuuri’s room, and he somehow knows it is because he sees the pressed officer’s uniform neatly hung up on a hook.

_Shit._

Slowly, as if giving the illusion time to disappear, Victor looks over his shoulder, and sees a scandalized Yuuri Katsuki holding his, err, chest rather protectively.

_Double shit._

“Yuuri,” He breathes, half-wishing he didn’t, “I am so, so _sorry_.”

 

* * *

 

 _Well, this was the awkward I was looking for,_ Victor muses as he takes a sip of his miso soup. The Katsuki family and Victor were all gathered around the kitchen taking their breakfast together. Normally, Victor would be all over the place, asking questions, hounding for recipes he would inevitably botch up, but after last night and this morning’s... whatever it was, the only thing he could stare at was his soup.

“Yuuko sent your things over, by the way.” Mrs. Katsuki breaks the silence as she takes a seat for herself after ladling everyone soup. Victor winces at his faux pas, realizing that he had been the only one touching the food while everyone else waited for her.

“My stuff? Um, why?” Was he getting booted out of Hasetsu and they didn’t want him going back to the apartment?

Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki look at each other, surprised. “Because you’ll be staying here.”

Yuuri chokes on his soup, which Victor ignores. “What? Why?”

“You don’t remember the phone call last night?”

“What phone call?” Victor pulls out his phone and sees several missed calls from his landlord. “What’s happened?”

“A burst pipe happened.” Mari says as she passes Yuuri a napkin, “Your apartment’s flooded.”

At Victor’s feet, Makkachin whines.

 

* * *

 

 

For someone who had to pay quite a bit to have his things transferred to Hasetsu, all that’s left of Victor’s possessions can be filled in two boxes and a suitcase. After breakfast, he had gone back to his apartment to see what else could be salvaged from the flood. Yuuko and Takeshi had been more than nice enough to immediately stash away whatever it was that hadn’t been touched too much by the flood. Victor had never been so glad to have stowed away the most important documents and things inside his suitcase.

Yuuri taps on the door of the room he’s currently occupying in Katsuki Yutopia. While the flood had been somewhat terrible, the severity of the situation had been enough to wash away the awkwardness that had started to grow between them. “Need any help?”

Victor had been staring at the empty boxes hard enough to burn a hole in them, but he looks up when Yuuri slowly treads inside like a wary cat. “I’ve put away most of my stuff.”

“I see.” Yuuri takes a seat on Victor’s bed. “I’m sorry about your things.”

“I’m not really sad about my things.” Victor says, slowly turning around. “They’re just _things_. I was just thinking, what if Yuuko hadn’t invited us out? What if I had left Makkachin alone? Who do I call when I need help?”

“Well, first you’d call the landlord because it’s his fault in the first place,” Yuuri cheekily says, prompting a laugh from Victor. “Then maybe Yuuko. Or me.”

“Or you, huh?” Victor repeats lightheartedly, the darkness in his previous thoughts seeming to quickly vanish. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. “Would you have picked up?”

Yuuri looks offended at this, “Of course I would’ve. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Victor doesn’t even try tamping down the smile that he’s sure is spreading across his face, “ _Friends_ , huh?”

For some reason, Yuuri colors at this. “Aren’t we?”

“Sure. We are.”

And while Victor would normally come up with a clever quip at a time like this about their status as friends, he shakes his head. Maybe not tonight, at least.

Tomorrow, however, needs a new game plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, writing this chapter is difficult. Like holy shit I've written TWENTY drafts for this and nothing really comes out right difficult.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter featured a not-as-fun Victor but the good news is that he is now closer to fulfilling the premise of this AU~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victor realizes some things

_In which Victor is tested on his being friends with Yuuri_

_WHOOSH!_

There was something to be said about being a man in love.

_WHOOSH!_

Like the fact that Victor barely registers that he was not doing his usual warm-ups anymore, and had full on launched into one of the ‘silly’ numbers he created back at Yakov’s rink in St. Petersburg _just for funsies_ , and was in effect, drawing a crowd comprising not only his students, but also Yuuko and Takeshi who had been dragged to the bleachers by the triplets.

On his good days, Victor was _dancing_ on ice, everybody thought so; he made skating look effortless and easy and it was clear as day that he loved what he did.

But on this particular day, Victor was _glowing_ , and it was getting difficult to tear one’s eyes away from his rather splendid form on the ice. Because even when no music was playing, and the only sounds anyone can hear are his blades purring on the ice, you could ask practically anyone and they would all agree that they could hear the music Victor was hearing in his head.

Victor on his great days, as it looked like, was magnificent.

And no one would dare say otherwise.

“What brought this on?” Yuuko whispers, stunned, and just as expected, her daughters shushed her, not at all welcoming of the distraction. She instead turns to her husband, whose mouth was equally slack. “What happened to Victor?”

“I’m not sure.” Takeshi murmurs as Victor takes a flying leap and draws collective gasps from the crowd. “But I hope it happens again.”

When Victor strikes his final pose, he is surprised at the startling applause that greets him, and gasps when he catches wind of the time on the rinkside clock.

He hurriedly skates over to Yuuko. “I am so sorry, I lost track of time and—”

“ _SUGOIIIIIIIIIIIII_!!!” The triplets practically scream as they hop around on their seats, their eyes glossy and sparkly at the spectacle they’ve witnessed.

“I knew you were good,” Yuuko says haltingly, a crease forming between her brows. “I didn’t expect you to be _that_ good. What _was_ that?”

Victor shakes his head. “Just something I came up with back home. It’s nothing special.”

“If that was _nothing,”_ Takeshi huffs, “Then what have I been watching on the television?”

“You exaggerate.” Victor laughs, then claps his hands together. “Okay students, time to warm up.”

As his students excitedly talk amongst themselves as they head out to the rink, Yuuko takes the chance to take him aside. “Did something happen?”

Surprisingly, Victor blushes at this. “N-no, I just… felt like it.”

“If you keep on _feeling_ like this, _I_ have a feeling you can seriously compete.”

“Oh Yuuko, you’re lovely.” Victor says as he mops his forehead with a towel. “But that ship has sailed for me.”

“Then at least tell me what happened because I _love_ it.” At Victor’s silence, Yuuko gently asks the one thing that’s changed since he’s moved to Hasetsu. “Is it Yuuri?”

The blush was back, and Yuuko had to stop herself from pumping her fists with glee. “I’m right.” She says, amazed, “It’s _Yuuri_.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Victor demurs coyly, as he toys with the hem of his shirt. “Yuuri and I… We’re just _tamagotchi_.”

“ _Tomodachi_.”

“Right. That.” Victor blinks. “What did I say?”

 _Everything I needed to know_ , Yuuko thinks as Victor excuses himself to join his students on the rink.

* * *

 

“You didn’t have to pick me up.” Yuuri laughs as he sees Victor’s form hunched over the wooden steps before turning his back to lock up the _koban_. “You could’ve waited for me inside.”

It was on the tip of Victor’s tongue to say that he liked waiting for Yuuri anytime, anywhere. But if Yuuri wanted Victor to wait for him inside the warm policebox, then that meant that Yuuri didn’t want Victor to feel cold. And if he didn’t want Victor to get cold, that meant he cared for Victor. And if he started to care for Victor, then that meant that the Russian was one step closer than the day before, although Victor was more than damn sure that Yuuri would care about anyone and anything dying on his watch.

It was just one of the things that was so _incredible_ about Yuuri, his empathic side.

Before Victor would allow himself to melt in a puddle of Russian goo at the Japanese cop’s feet (“And what, ruin the chance of his falling hopelessly and helplessly in love with me?” Victor sniffs. “I think not.”) he brushes his hands over his immaculate self (“I think my back looks great from this angle when he stands here… Maybe lower this shoulder a bit. And when he calls my name, I turn back with a gentle lilt to my head and…” He juts his lips out ever so slightly. “ _Perfekt_.”) and stands. “I didn’t want to get in the way of your work.”

He was lying, because he did. He wanted Yuuri to sit there in that tiny little box and obsess over him the way that he replayed yesterday’s scene over and over in his head that he hadn’t realized that he was skating a routine he liked to tinker with in his spare time.

“Nonsense.” Yuuri makes a _Pshaw!_ sound as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. Victor remembers that Yuuri had left his gloves on the kitchen table during breakfast and that the gloves were actually in his coat. He had thought of giving it to Yuuri that morning, afraid that the Japanese man’s fingers would grow numb when he worked outside, but at the last second before they separated for work, he had decided against it, liking the feel of the leather on his fingertips as he imagined that it was Yuuri’s hands he was actually holding.

Victor shivers at the delicious tingle that zips up his spine, which Yuuri mistakes for his being cold and frowns. “You’re cold. Let’s hurry back.”

“Yuuri, you seem to be forgetting that I’m Russian.” Victor gently chides as he nudges the shorter man’s shoulder.

“Exactly. You’re a man.”

Victor’s heart soars. _Oh God. He sees me as a man._

“—not a polar bear, so let’s get moving. It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

On the verge of flying, Victor’s heart sputters, seemingly having run out of gas, and freefalls into the pits of somewhere between his stomach and his intestine.

“We’re _tomodachi_.” Victor mutters as he picks up his pace and follows Yuuri. His tongue is leaden as he consoles himself with a small pat on the back. “It’s still better than being a polar bear.”

* * *

 

“ _Tadaimaaaaaaa_.” Yuuri says as the twosome enter the inn, having shaken off the snow at the foyer. As Victor unwinds the scarf from his neck, Makkachin excitedly pads over at his feet. Mrs. Katsuki peeks out and smiles at the both of them with a gentle, “Okaeri.”

“What was that?” Victor whispers to Yuuri as the two men bend over and coo over Makkachin.

“Oh, right.” With a free hand, Yuuri pushes up his glances that had fallen over his nosebridge, and Victor was glad that his hands were currently clutching fluffy brown fur because he was tempted to push them back up, amongst pushing _other_ things up. “‘Tadaima’ means ‘I’m home’. ‘Okaeri’ means ‘Welcome back’.”

With a strange lump that had somehow formed in his throat, Victor tries it out, “ _Tadaima_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri grins. “ _Okaeri_ , Victor.”

Giving Makkachin one last pat on the head, Yuuri leaves both master and pet near the foyer, having been called by his mother, followed by string after string of quick Japanese.

Cradling Makkachin in his lap, Victor sighs as the dog gently laps his hand. It was one thing to fall in love with a person, another to fall in love with a family and a culture. Having lived on his own ever since he turned eighteen, only Makkachin ever greeted Victor at the front door, and he realizes that he missed the warmth of a family that welcomes him just when he got back from the outside world.

It was a comfort that Victor had a dangerous feeling he was going to get greedy of.

A passing Mari stops in her tracks when she sees Victor and Makkachin huddled on the floor together like they haven’t seen each other in years. “You’re going to catch a cold there.”

Victor looks up. “Thanks, Mari.” And he means it. He leads Makkachin over to the living area by the window where he could watch the snow start falling in soft plops, quickly blanketing the world outside of Katsuki Yutopia, the name of the inn seemingly starting to make sense of him.

“Get under the kotatsu, Victor-sensei.” Mr. Katsuki tuts as he turns the page of his newspaper. “It’s a terrible time to have a cold.”

So Victor does. And when he gets dragged into a conversation of seeming unimportance which later on morphs into a family affair with lovely dinner and laughs and company, Victor realizes that the world might currently be of white and snow and ice, but inside, there was always room for warmth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blargh. Writer's block is terrible. Double blargh.  
> Thanks for the comments and the kudos, and for reading LF!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Victor chooses the road less taken (yeaaaaboi)

In times of uncertainty and doubt, there was no one else Victor liked to call on more than Chris, who, at present time, was most likely currently all tucked away nice and snug and warm in his boyfriend’s embrace in Switzerland. Although he was hesitant to admit his personality flaws, Victor wasn’t really the type to think things through before he acted on them. Chris, on the other hand, was more cautious and cunning, and preferred to orchestrate a devious yet subtle plots to get him what he wanted, the most devious and cunning of which he used on his own manager to turn into his lover. And while Victor was not of the devious and cunning variety – much less, subtle – he had to admire Chris’ brilliant mind, which was incredibly adept at thinking ten – no, at least _twenty_ – steps ahead, especially when Victor was most likely to hang around the third step or so.

Which was why, of course, as soon as Victor’s bright pools of aquamarine eyes flash open in a jolt from a rather fitful sleep, he wrestles a sleeping Makkachin aside to fumble for his phone, not once bothering to check what the godforsaken time was in Geneva.

“Chris would understand.” Victor mutters as he places his phone to his ear. (He wouldn’t.)

After the third call, Chris finally picks up with a characteristically very Chris groan. “Please tell me you’re dying.”

“What a rude thing to say!”

“So you’re not? Dying?”

“No!”

“That makes one of us at least.” Chris yawns. In the background, Victor hears someone else stir and mumble in incoherent French, to which Chris responds back in equally mumble-y French followed by the sound of a smooch. “This better be good.”

“I thought we were friends!”

“We _are_! But friends let friends sleep when they’re not on the cusp of death, my little Russian yam.”

Victor didn’t think yams were indigenous to Russia, but he doesn’t bite and simply just says, “I’m living with Yuuri.”

“Your Russian co-worker at the ice rink?” Chris says, which he quickly begins to realize was a huge mistake because not only does Victor say “NO” loudly enough to startle his sleeping boyfriend, but starts to fall all over himself in gushing about _“Only the the most adorable policeman in the world!”_ and horrifyingly starts recounting everything that has happened, involving Yuuri, of course, since he got to Hasetsu.

In astonishingly impressive detail.

_At two o’clock in the morning._

For the _second_ time.

Because the first time Victor did this had been just a few days ago when he thought he was going to be slapped with handcuffs because he had unintentionally violated “The purest creature in the world!” which led Chris to thinks that if he should ever have children, their limited Disney-watching privileges would surely be non-negotiable, else they turn into an utter and complete moron like his best friend who apparently turned into a love-addled idiot, currently still waxing poetic about Yuuri’s “Big! Brown!” – which had initially sounded _very promising_ but were instead followed disappointingly by – “Eyes!”

Fearing a hand cramp, Chris fishes for a pair of earphones from his bedside drawer and pops them in, only to see on his screen something that closely resembled something like a miniature mountain of undecipherable junk on top of a tiny table. His hands grope in the dark for his glasses, and as he slides them on, he interrupts Victor with a, “Victor, _mon cher_ , what am I looking at, pray tell?”

Victor quickly closes the video. “O-oops. Must’ve accidentally opened the video.”

“That didn’t look like your stuff.” Chris’s radar of suspicion was currently emitting signals that Something Didn’t Seem Right, and Victor’s very telling stutter hardly helped. “They weren’t flashy enough.”

“They’re just… things laying around the room I cleared away.”

 “Turn on the video again if it’s nothing, Victor.”

So Victor does, which makes Chris audibly gasp. “ _No_.”

“Okay, okay, I _know_.” Victor begins to wail, clicking the video off again. “I didn’t even know I was doing it.” Heck, he didn’t even know why he showed Chris it. Showing it to someone else made the whole situation seem more real, instead of just _a thing_ that just happened to well, _happen_ , even if that someone else was his best friend.

“How could you not know you were building a _shrine_ , Vitya!” Chris sputters in disbelief.

And because this was Chris he was talking to, despite him sounding surprisingly quite judgmental at the moment, Victor starts to tell him that he had now never went anywhere without something of Yuuri’s stashed somewhere on his person. It had started with the gloves (“Because I can pretend that we’re holding hands.”), and the next had been Yuuri’s handkerchief (“Because he never leaves home without one, and I want him to take me where he goes, too.”) and the rest snowballed from there; a towel (“Why should his towel get all the fun?”), a sock (“Just the one, so that it wouldn’t be too obvious because everyone loses a half of their pair of socks every time.”) a box of matches that Yuuri used when he lit a candle, the candle, and his latest–the almost unnoticeable hand soap Yuuri uses that had worn down to a tiny nub, simply because “Yuuri had been touching it for a while now, and it actually smells like the lavender soap I used to buy before it was discontinued.”

Apparently, it was not at all difficult not to start collecting items, especially when you shared a house with the man of your dreams.

“You know what you are, don’t you?” Chris says with all the graveness one could muster at an unholy hour.

“ _Vampire_?” Victor weakly jokes, the sound of his awkward laughter falling deaf on Chris’ ears.

“You’re a creepy klepto stalker, Vitya.” Chris sighs, “But _alors_ , who am I not to say I did not understand the power of love?”

Renewed, rejuvenated, revived, and bursting with _joie de vivre_ , Victor once again starts up and fills Chris in, and this time, the Swiss starts to listen. He asks questions (“How did he say that you two were ‘friends’?” “Makkachin did _what_ , now?” “ _Tamagotchi_? Isn’t that the pixilated pet game that was all the craze like, a decade ago? …oh, _tomodachi_.  Sure, I don’t know what that means, but okay.”) and tries to give his opinions (“Maybe it’s because you’re missing your family?” “An electric blanket? That sounds genius! Can you send me one?”) but it wasn’t until Chris asks what Victor’s plan was that the Russian grew silent.

“That’s just it. I don’t have one.” Victor confesses.

Chris was quiet. “Did you want me to help you?”

Victor pauses to think. He had less than two weeks left to make Yuuri fall in love with him while he stayed at the inn, because this way, he had more chances and opportunities with him. And while with Chris’s help, he might get Yuuri to look at him in a different light, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to win Yuuri over with someone else’s help because he wanted to earn it all on his lonesome. And if Yuuri decides that he doesn’t want any part of Victor’s affection, then at least it would’ve been a battle Victor bravely fought.

St. Petersburg Russia would’ve said yes immediately; Hasetsu Victor, on the other hand, hedged.

“I think I’m good.” Victor slowly says as the realization sinks in. “I guess I just wanted someone to listen. Thanks for that.”

Chris grins, pleased at the change he sees in Victor. When the Russian had all but announced that he had spontaneously decided to up and leave Russia and a stable job, Chris thought he had gone crazy. But seeing the new and improved Victor Nikiforov, Chris was very proud. And although it was now almost three in the morning and he had grueling work ahead of him, Chris says, “Anytime.” and means it.

 

* * *

 

“ _Ittekimaaaasu_!” Both Yuuri and Victor say out loud as they finish slipping on their shoes, snug scarves wound tightly around the both of their necks, Makkachin accompanying their words with a _“Woof! Woof!”_ and pawing at the door in his excitement. Over breakfast, Yuuri had asked Victor whether he was free – “Anytime!” bubbled out of Victor’s lips, and in a smaller voice and in Russian, he says, “Just for you.” – and did he want to go on that patrol Yuuri had promised to take him on – Yuuri hadn’t even finished talking when Victor rather too enthusiastically declared that “There’s nothing I would love more!” which prompted a grin from Yuuri that had all his insides squirming and tingling.

“ _Itterasshai_!” Mr. Katsuki had gone out for a walk, and Mari was still sleeping, so it was only Mrs. Katsuki who hollers back.

The men – and the dog – set off on their journey, but not without dropping by the koban first to make sure that no one needed Yuuri terribly before they went on patrol. Yuuri holds the door open for Victor as he and Makkachin step inside the koban, the interior looking strangely, more endearing than it was the first time he’s seen it, but maybe it was also because Victor hadn’t so much given the interiors a good look after he had spied the more beguiling police officer. The orangey-red wood made the interior of the koban look just as charming as it was on the outside, and any and all paperwork seemed to be neatly categorized in files and kept away.

“Are you the only police officer in this _koban_?” Victor asks.

“I used to have a partner—” Victor bristles at the word ‘partner’ as Yuuri tilts his head in the direction of the unoccupied desk which was far too close to Yuuri’s desk for Victor’s liking. Far _too_ close. “—but Minami got transferred to Nagoya and the higher-ups decided that Hasetsu needed just one man for this outpost.”

“Did they,” Victor innocently says as he brushes his hands over Yuuri’s desk, thanking the gods for whatever got or whatever his name was transferred.

As they start to wait for the thirty minutes before they leave for Yuuri’s patrol, Victor and Yuuri talk. Yuuri is surprised that Victor is terribly well-versed in jellyfish trivia (“They’re _sea-dancers_ , Yuuri. _Of course I know all about them!”),_ a tangent that they had spun off when Yuuri asked Victor if he had caught a glimpse of the sea (“But they’re right _there_ , Victor! _How could you not have seen them?!”_ Yuuri was incredulous, to which Victor mutters in Russian under his breath, “ _Because all I see is you. Miles and oceans and skies of you.”_ which, of course, doesn’t escape Yuuri’s notice because he begins to ask Victor what he had just said.)

“That’s not fair.” Yuuri huffs. “I teach _you_ some Japanese.”

“Would you like me to teach you some Russian, then?”

 _I’ll let you get to know_ a whole lot _of Russian._

Yuuri seems to think about this very seriously. “Is it very difficult?”

“Maybe for first-timers,” Victor says, trying and kind of failing at keeping his voice neutral, because his voice breaks at ‘first-timers’, “but you look like a quick study.”

“And your English is really good.” Yuuri hums, still thinking.

_That isn’t the only thing that I’m good at._

Victor doesn’t think he can choke that out without keeping up his façade, so he tries to make do with a half-shrug, half-wave thing with his hands and a very vague, “A-aaaahahahaha.” (Whatever that was supposed to mean, aside from a very probable short-circuiting Russian brain from innuendo overload).

“Right, well. Let’s go.” Yuuri grabs his keys and puts on his coat. “Maybe you can start teaching me on the way.”

* * *

 

For something that sounded that sounded terribly romantic in Victor’s head, Yuuri’s patrol seemed to be anything but. Because while they had left behind the charming little koban and the equally arresting wintry forest which believably looked like it could certainly house fairies and other creatures of the fae, their little world quickly grew to include other characters because Victor had somehow conveniently forgotten that they were not on a date, and that Yuuri was actually on the clock.

Which was how he had somehow gotten himself roped into helping the town florist and her son unload the sacks of fertilizer off the delivery van. (Makkachin was off doing his Best Doggo of The Year impression by keeping the younger kids in the shop entertained.)

“She says she’s sorry about your clothes, and that she insists on washing it for you.” Yuuri translates for Mrs. Amano, who did indeed look terribly sorry about the stain on Victor’s shirt. The older woman bows again, which Victor reciprocates. “Speaking of which, were you going somewhere? I didn’t notice before but you’re actually dressed up.”

“Please tell her it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just something I threw on.” Victor lies. The shirt was one of his best ones, an exquisite Zegna button down specifically tailored for him as a birthday gift from his grandmother. He had worn it because he had always associated it with good memories, and his first time out with Yuuri seemed like a darned good occasion to bust out the Zegna, much to Chris’ approval, but it didn’t seem right to inconvenience someone over a shirt. “I hope her husband feels better soon.”

After they finish hauling the sacks of fertilizer, they had once again set off on their little tour. They stop when fellow residents call out Yuuri’s name and curiously inquire after his silver-haired friend (“Watashi wa Victor… desu.” He looks over at Yuuri, pleased as punch that he’s nailed his self-introduction) , they linger when Makkachin finds _More children to play with!_ and they break into a run when the snow gets heavier inside _surprise, surprise_ , the not-so-super supermarket that had given Victor a rather memorable day confined in his toilet.

Mr. Wakaru seemed to be almost waiting for them – well, Yuuri, to be specific – when they showed up. In his gruff voice, he talks to Yuuri and nods towards the snow. “His cat’s missing again.” Yuuri murmurs to Victor.

“Poor Dried Squid.”

When the snow lightens up, they depart and begin calling out for Maru – which was the cat’s actual name. Yuuri leads them to Maru’s usual hang-outs but there was no sign of the tabby anywhere, which leads them to drop Makkachin off at Katsuyuki Yutopia first because the cold was starting to bite.

When the snow evolved into a semi-snow storm, they had to call the search off. When they pulled up at the inn, Mrs. Katsuki had all but given them one quick glance, hurried them under the _kotatsu_ , a marvel of Japanese technology that had moved to the Top 3 things Victor loved about Japan, and poured piping hot soup down their throats.

“Hey Makkachin,” Victor softly nudges his drowsing dog, who cracks an eye open drowsily as if to say _What? “_ If you were a cat, where would you hide?” Makkachin’s response to this was to burrow deeper into Victor’s side, seeking the heat his master’s body gave off. Because even if Victor wanted nothing more than to sleep, his feet were tired and his body was aching, all he could weirdly think about now was the rather misplaced _cat_.

Which was strange, not because he had anything against cats – they just didn’t take to him; Yuri Plisetsky being a prime example, but because he was thinking that they had just spent hours looking for a cat that maybe, just maybe, didn’t want to be found. Maybe there was a higher purpose in being able to go where you wanted when you liked, and maybe Victor had a little of that sense of adventure, what with spontaneously packing up and moving thousands of miles away to a relatively unknown town. Or maybe the cat wasn’t exactly Mr. Wakaru’s; he just _thought_ it was.

Or maybe Victor was just plain overthinking.

Suddenly overcome with drowsiness, Victor hugs Makkachin closer and drifts to sleep…

…only to jolt awake when a sudden _Yeow!_ and the quick patter of tiny feet resounds on the ceiling overhead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven! Frankly, I'm surprised I made it this far.
> 
> Thanks for the Kudos, and the comments, by the way! They make any AO3 writer happy, but I personally think nobody is happier than me. :p

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, congratulations for making it to the end of Chapter One! If it has errors and typos and missing words, I am sorry, terribly sorry, because I fired this one off as fast as my fingers can type.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very, very welcome, and I respond to every comment I get, so if you think this work is not at all shady, and not at all a pile of doo, please let me know. :)


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